


Hello, Casanova

by darkrabbit



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-09
Updated: 2010-10-09
Packaged: 2017-10-12 13:32:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkrabbit/pseuds/darkrabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Jack have a moment alone at a quaint little motel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He was tangled in the sheets like a fallen angel, all strife and angst and ribbons of unkempt power. The Doctor was dead. He had died in Jack’s arms, was still dying as Jack held him, as Jack stayed with him through the hell of his memories, as they burned him through in flames that licked out golden strands of holy taffy.

 

And he was burning, now.  Jack did not step away, though he felt the flesh run from his face in streams of melt; the hot glaciers of his cheeks slipping down the remains of his skull. He reached up then, as his skin crisped... how very near he was to his angel, how close and fragile the god he held seemed, yet always the man was gone.

 

The thirty-something foxy looker was gone now, even as Jack held him; that face consumed within his gleaming cocoon of candy-stick starshine, and Jack held him through it all.

 

The burn faded, after a time, and the Lord of Time sat up from the bed, new, changed, ever different and yet forever the same. Now he was younger still, a sturdy youth in his twenties with swollen lips and whiter teeth and a strong jaw; a body that breathed clearer, deep eyes that paraded their health for the world to see above a mouth that craved kisses and the delicate delicacy of words.  A philologist, again.

 

“You’re a terrible beauty, you know. Just... terrible,” a soft voice said from the edge of him.

 

The newborn stared about, scoping out surroundings like a freshly birthed fawn, aloof and wise.

 

He looked and saw Jack standing there, having just sprung away to the safety of some nondescript corner of the room to survey the glorious damage.

 

“I burned you.”

 

Jack shook his head, not moving from the corner he’d claimed.

 

“It’s dark over there. How bad is your face, Jack?”

 

Jack stared at anything but the freshly minted Adonis before him, trying not to be content with the quiet that had settled on everything like a fine dust. Then, failing soundly, closing his eyes, he savoured the newness of his favorite alien, tasting and touching and hearing and smelling with his soldier’s senses.  But never the flesh. No, never the flesh. Any movement toward such vile contract would sully the purity of the breaths that barely graced the room, drawn from triplet lungs so hale, yet so ancient they could have been museum pieces.

 

“Are you coming back over here, or do I have to beg? I rather hate begging, no matter the regeneration... What say?”

 

The Doctor, his Time Lord, the object of Jack Harkness’s never quite obviated love, paused, laughed softly, then turned to stare into the darkened corner where stood a late Victorian water cabinet splashed with tan fleur-de-lis. A man’s hand appeared in the darkness, a large hand, but slender, dexterous. Agile. Full of the memory of chaste touches, and others not so chaste.

 

The Time Lord watched the hand slide from the cabinet, stick itself in the pocket of a pair of dark grey pants below black suspenders that held a white shirt, watched as the owner of the hand, the pants, the shirt and suspenders, ambled over with all the attentive, manicured care of a senior Maiko.

 

“I’m wearing the bed linens, Jack. Sure this wasn’t your idea?”

 

 _Ohhh Doctor..._ Jack thought he might drown in the fullness of those lips.

 

The Doctor stayed as still as he could, smiled as thinly as he dared with those lips. They were, happily, attached to a mouth that could have given Eros pause.

 

“I never took you for a poet, Jack.”

 

“I never took you for an artist, Doc.”

 

A leg appeared beneath the sheets; two hands looped the streams of cotton fabric, draping an expert flow of white around their master’s sensitivities.

 

“Now now, my Odysseus; let us not be like those vulgar ones, who sit on docks and rail and smoke their days away in the dens of the opium merchant.”

 

 The hand came closer, feeling for purchase in the open space between them like a blind man in an empty room.

 

Light echoed down through a sheer curtain striped with azul and silver; reminding them both of the TARDIS. Their smiles met, but only that, and soon the hand was falling back into the shade.

 

“This reminds me of a motel room I stayed in, once. A little out of the way place. There were trefoil white flowers growing through the cracks in the pavement out front. One vacancy left, I take it?” mused the Doctor flatly, his quick rainwater blue eyes taking in the stream of sunlight that cut across Jack’s face.

 

“The gods punish you unjustly, Prometheus,” Jack whispered into the window, smushing himself against the frost-tipped panes. They reminded him of marzipan.

 

“Too sweet... ” he murmured, gazing at the reflection of another man in the glass, “... and to think I was ever an artist. I do hope you’ll be schooling me in all the basics, sir, else I may have to resort to guerilla tactics in order to get my diploma.”

 

“Well, my good Captain Jack, I’ve always known you had a lust for antiques. In any case,”

 

The Time Lord looked on the Captain with pause. His dark eyes, blush-black now, paused over the chest, the tight neck, rose up and paused across the high voltage smile that could beam lanterns to life. He paused at the inkling of buttocks that butted themselves against the side of a washstand, pressing tautly into the creamy corner between wood and plaster. Then he continued, standing up from the bed with the ease of a practised concubine as the sheets revealed the thick, icicle stab of patient phallus beneath the white of themselves.

 

“... I stand here now, presenting such prominent posture as to never be denied my whims.”

 

“You... ah... always did know how to show a man a good time, Doctor.”

 

Jack gazed on the alien’s reflection in the window, unable to turn and look upon the reality. “I think your ah, sonic wins the ribbon. I don’t know what to say.”

 

The Doctor took a step toward Jack, aiming his entirety toward him as he swayed into place beside those white shirted shoulders, bound by suspenders and chained by more years than any human should have dreamt of.

 

All right. Poor thing. _He’d_ start it, then.

 

“Hello, beautiful. Worry much?”

 

All at once, Jack felt himself steal a breath from the cold air. Then he waited, caging it in his lungs for a moment or two before turning and exhaling used carbon dioxide into the thick scruff of browns obscuring the Doctor’s right temple.

 

They embraced.

 

Heat echoed up from them both as they squirmed in mid freefall on their long long journey to the floor. Kisses were smothered against tender folds, and bruises formed as they both nearly struck the ground, tumbling across a bloody pair of ruined converse and a long blue coat with a bullet hole in the left breast.

 

“Mmm... ” Jack moaned with savour, “... you taste like honey and rain... ”

 

With a juicy ripe twist of anticipation, the Time Agent hardened against the cushion of exobiotic quadriceps, coveting taut white cushions of sinew he’d sought for so long.  And still, there were other landscapes of flesh to be sensed, new and exotic valleys to be surveyed. More lush alien wilderness to claim as his own.

 

“Oh is that it then? Not blood and metal, or apple grass, or candle wax from all those days in the TARDIS library?” the Doctor teased quietly, joying in the joy he was giving the very old human who straddled him now, the only regret -albeit an amusing one- being that said human hadn’t taken off his pants yet.

 

“Are you challenging me, Doctor?” Jack murmured, rubbing against the alien’s bare chest and purring like a cat as he reached down and wiggled his way out of his sex wet trousers.

 

 The Doctor’s thin accoutrement of sheet soon followed, and then they were tangled together on the floor, bathing at last in a pool of clothing and sex and the shared heat of yearning.

 

“Hrm. Quite. Care to open the hood? I’d say I’ve just washed, but I’m always clean. Always... prepared.”

 

The Time Lord spread his legs out before Jack, beckoning him, then crossed his ankles and waited, bearing an impossibly alluring half-grin on his face that could have turned a Cat Nun into a Devon Rex for all that he turned every living thing to inanimate jelly with those crystal bright teeth of his.  And those puppy dog eyes. They bore more than a trace of health, in this latest regeneration, his eleventh, and of course, he knew exactly how Jack Harkness planned on keeping him sane.

 

The distance between looks and caressing was soon closed, and afterward the Doctor could feel the color of heat as Jack’s thick, raw length massaged his nether barriers. Well, what could he say? It was easy to relax with Jack now, like this. It had been so long, so terribly, terribly long since someone had gentled him in this way. He doubted he could even remember the first. Well, he said that, but...

 

“Am I doing you all right, Doc? Not hurting you?” Jack said patiently, waiting out the Time Lord’s spaced stare as he smoothed the sway of his hips and held himself.

 

He wasn’t called Captain for nothing, and he had been saving things back for just such an occasion as this. Ianto had been his Earth, but the Doctor was his Heaven.

 

“Ah. Well, I’m a bit tight, but you’re a clever boy. And so am I. But just to be safe, let’s start with preschool first and then try for the higher maths.”

 

Jack nodded, his nethers quivering with their own weight as he swiveled his hips just so and slid forward a centimetre, pushing slightly on the Time Lord’s swelling ingress, which was already damp and sliding open as he stared.

 

“You work fast, Doc. How long did it take you to release those smart little hormones of yours? Was it five seconds after the tone, or did you have to phone ahead?”

 

The Time Lord laughed, carefully, as Jack was about to breach his wet and weeping channel, and so he let out a soft, fluttering sigh that rather resembled a shiver.

 

“Bit of a multi-tasker, me. Do you want to see my room?”

 

“Mrs. Robinson! I think you’re trying to seduce me!” Jack was sweating now, eager for entry.

 

As the Doctor shifted slightly downward, Jack slid forward, beginning the course with light, easy thrusts. He hadn’t torn anything, the Doctor would have said.

 

“That depends,” said the Time Lord lazily through a slight lisp, licking lips swelled to bursting by some of Jack Harkness’ more industrious kisses while he arched, bodily, expertly, raising up from the pile of clothes to feed his steadily sucking womb another morsel of Captain,  “... do you like cupboards and cupcakes, or are you a silk and roses man? Chocolate covered strawberries, perhaps?”

 

Jack tried very hard not to laugh himself silly and spill seed all over the Doctor before he could give them all a proper send off.

 

“I think... your sacred cauldron... could be a bit... greedy, Doc.”

 

The Time Lord groaned, his body pulling on Jack with only a fraction of his ten lives’ strength. Jack was coming closer to climax. Time to pull out all the stops.

 

“Well, our natural born ancestors were considered quite the old hands at various forms of magickal manipulation. So, technically I’m descended from a Tanuki Pot.”

 

Jack stopped thrusting instantly and stared, then bent down and kissed him, lips fiercely groping lips in a frenzy of need.

 

“Mmm. Tastes so good. So... you’re saying... the more we... do this... ” he managed, panting as he drove into the Doctor like a medieval battering ram, “... then the more likely it is you’ll... ”

 

The Doctor gazed into the impossible human’s bright blue eyes as he asked, quite playfully, “... acquire enough deoxyribonucleicacid to extract in order to create a proper biological environment so I can attend to the business of popping out Time Tots like Christmas party biscuits? Yes. Something like that. So hurry up already! I’m getting cold, and you’re a bloody ice pick when you’re chilly.”

 

“Hrm. Are you going to nag me like this every night, Honey?”

 

“I should think so! Get a move on!”


	2. Chapter 2

“Doctor!”

 

 The Time Lord reached out to catch himself, but it was too late. He fell down in a faint just across the motel’s office doorway.

 

Still, by the time Jack and the -creepy old woman- motel manager reached him, he was already stirring.

 

“Oh my. I don’t remember this place being so active when I was here last. Don’t anybody freak, I’m perfectly fine. Just got a bit dizzy, for a mo.”

 

 He sounded uncharacteristically winded in the quiet of the morning. Jack could feel concern welling over his face, but he stilled it instantly. Besides, the Time Lord knew his body better than anyone. If he said he was fine, well… yeah right.

 

 Jack reached over and pulled the Time Lord up gingerly by the scruff with a hand, avoiding an easy -arm around the midsection- carry for purely hopeful reasons.

 

 “Why dizzy? See something?”

 

See? He could be careful and subtle when he wanted.

 

The Doctor groaned; clearly this was a sore topic. But Jack could have laughed at that face.

 

The Creepy Old Woman, -an Asian-, however, merely scowled, then looked over to share a sour plum with her young maid, who was cleaning behind one of the room doors. Ah wait. That wasn’t a plum, Jack reasoned, staring at her behind her back. That was her face.

 

 <shiver>

 

“Don’t be rude, Jack Harkness,” said the Doctor with a little breathless gasp as he accepted the help, which left Jack wondering along earlier lines, “…it isn’t like you haven’t seen worse.”

 

 “Bah!” screeched the Old Woman, who had finished the jar of plums and was now tapping her fingers on the front desk. 厄介者! 歓迎されなかった失礼なoff-worldersここに!」

 

  _Then the maid appeared from behind the door with a clean white duster and said simply, “Mayu-Kun, do not hassle these honoured guests. The one who fell, he is Kusabi…”_

 _  
_

_But the Doctor cut the young woman off, his eyes pale and bright and wide as robin’s eggs whilst he spoke, his entire nature recoiling as though she were a viper after his nest._

 _  
_

_“What?”_

 _  
_

_The maid smiled at him then, blocking Jack out entirely as their eyes met._

 _“You are the Kusabi, the Sacrifice. It seemed apt, for you. Your eyes tell of much suffering.”_

 _  
_

_Time Agent or no, with his hand still on the Doctor’ arm, Jack could have sworn he felt the man actively withdraw from her presence._

 _  
_

_“Doctor, you’re trembling. I think we should get you back to bed. Come on… ” Jack said, taking a firmer hold on the Time Lord’s arm as he tried not to notice how the alien he fancied was cradling his midsection like a dicky teenager._

 _  
_

_Then the maid turned to the Old Woman and said softly after them, “Perhaps some breakfast in bed for these gentlemen, Mayu-kun? The Kusabi is in need of food.”_

 _  
_

_Jack led the Doctor away back to their room with trepidation alight on his shoulder. What had it all been about? The Japanese version of Norman Bates?_

 _\----_

 _  
_

_The Time Lord fell unconscious almost as soon as his scruffy hair hit the pillow, but he did not sleep well. Jack sat with him through the dreams of angry faces, of fires and rages, until, at the last, he screamed of a naked madwoman with a countenance hard and white, a fallen angel whose crimson wings and wet, glistening black eyes seemed to swallow… everything._


	3. Chapter 3

_Three voices echoed in the dark.  
_

 _One, a young woman, sounded rushed, almost frightened. This one was small and polite.  
_

 _The second was older, harsher, though accented like the younger with the flourishes of Northern Japanese, but no less concerned.  
_

 _Had they come from the same area? He wondered at it, then nodded softly, a motion he regretted when he opened his eyes to the light._

 _  
_

_“Ah, too bright! Gonna need a bin!” he managed, and promptly the horrible whiteness dimmed enough to let him breathe without fear of losing any cookies._

 _  
_

_“Thank you, whoever you are. Is Jack here?”_

 _“Always,” came the Captain’s soft reply. He’d been worried, not to mention sex at the first sight of the Doctor’s rousing._

 _Time for oh, dear what could the matter be_ _, already, eh?_

 _“These two are Miss Mayu and Miss Miyu. They’ve been taking care of this place for a while. They even brought breakfast for us, but by then you were out cold. As for me, well… call it a hunch, but I think they’ve taken a shine to us.”_

 _  
_

_The Doctor huffed, then opened one eye, carefully, as all three stomachs were still threatening to rebel against the light._

 _  
_

_“I owe you two thanks then, I s’pose?”  he murmured, and the two women instantly bowed and took up one of his arms._

 _“Not at all, Kusabi-dono,” said Miyu, the younger woman, “… we are honored to have you back with us.”_

 _  
_

_“Yes,” added the older woman, Mayu, as she patted his hand. “Dead walk hereabout, and so we do not get many visitors anymore. You and your companion welcome to stay until you well again. We return your money. Only reason people stop here is for statue of Yohma, anyway.”_

 _  
_

_Miyu bent over him then and touched his cheek, wearing a warm smile across pale, thin lips. She seemed a child’s doll, with a face of fine porcelain. A tad too perfect…_

 _Time Lord or no, even he could get ill sometimes. Of course, this was not one of those times. He knew exactly why he’d collapsed, and it had nothing to do with fatigue._

 _Well, maybe a bit. Just a bit._

 _  
_

_He touched his lower belly and plastered a bored grin on his face that Jack would definitely appreciate._

 _“I’m pregnant. But you two smelled my baby, didn’t you? Naughty Trinomians, trying to pull one over on a Time Lord. Come on then!” he said, sitting up gingerly and looking down his nose at them like a tutting grandfather, “... show us your true natures and maybe I won’t call the Shadow Proclamation down on your little erm, side business.”_

 _He turned to the Time Agent, who was covering a grin behind one hand and trying not to laugh.  
_

 _“ Now then, girls! Where were we? Oh yes. The statue you’ve got stashed in that garden you’ve been tending in the courtyard back there. How did you two get hold of it? I want a look. Come on, shift!”_

 _  
_

_Jack started as the Doctor spoke telepathically as he dressed, the flow of speech stopping only so the deliciously youthful-looking Time Lord could pull his good Oxford shirt back over his head._

 _  
_

_“Hello there, Jack! These fine young ladies are quite the upstanding citizens, eh? First they rope us in with the promise of relaxation, then they lure us back to the statue in the hopes of gleaning a bit of our life esssence to sell at bazaar. Brilliant, really. Damn sirens of rest, are what they are. Find out where they’re hiding their technology. I’ll deal with the statue, namely because I think you’re the one they’ll soon realize they want more, font of everlast that you are.”_

 _  
_

_“You got it, Doc. But, are you really… is it… ”_

 _  
_

_“Yours and mine, Jack. And if they hurt her, they’ll be sorry. Now get a move on.”_

 _  
_

_Then the Trinomians pouted in unison like Siamese twins, their Asian features shimmering until they were elongated versions of themselves, limbs expanding and lengthening. They looked like bleached-white frog geisha… identical, and irreparably alien to Earth…_

 _  
_

_\---_

 _  
_

_Suddenly the room began to shift, and blackness turned, polishing the Doctor’s mind like a tumbled piece of jet... lightweight, dark. Fathomless._

 _He opened his eyes and saw Jack standing over him, one hand plastered across his forehead, the other checking a pulse at his neck._

 _  
_

_“Agh. I had the oddest dream. How long have I been out?”_

 _  
_

_Abruptly, an alien face appeared, white, with a red dot on each of two double-lidded eyes. These were followed by a long, gnarled, distinctly inhuman finger, which proceeded to shove itself into the space between his eyes as though it owned him._

 _  
_

_“Stupid Time Lord! Stay up all night watch too much Japanese horror! Sleep in, skip breakfast, not good for you!”_

 _Ignoring the Trinomian manager’s nattering, the Doctor sighed, blinked and rubbed his stomach, then sat up languidly, running Barcelonan eyes over Jack’s naked upper half. “What’s for lunch then? I’m famished.”_

 _Jack smirked, then winced as the alien woman thwacked him on the head._

 _“And you! You –more- stupid! You no pack tea and chocolate biscuit! Everybody who know anything know pregnant Time Lord crave chocolate! Baaaah!”_

 _  
_

_“… you brought me here to torture me, didn’t you?” the Time Agent said, ducking another blow from the manager’s three-fingered fist as she left for the kitchen to make tea, “... why didn’t you tell me you knew about this place? If you were anyone else, I’d say you were hiding it from… wait.”_

 _  
_

_Jack shook his head, trying to clear it, though he knew the action was reflexive and futile._

 _  
_

_“And if I was?” answered the Time Lord merrily, idly scratching slim, tight pectorals while he gazed at the two Trinomians, wondering how long it had been since he’d visited their part of space, a little binary star system called Tri’in Alpha-IV._

 _  
_

_“Waiiiiit! You said something earlier, something about a statue,” he added, deliberately catching the glinting eye of Mayu, the older Trinomian, “… I heard you two last night.”_

 _  
_

_The twin aliens stared at one another again in that strange little dance of gazes, and then resumed speech._

 _  
_

_“You still sick, I think,” said Mayu, her froggish face swelling and shrinking in time with each word, “… take lover and go back to bed! We take care of inconvenience. You sleep! Go! Go!”_

 _There was nothing to do but retreat to their room. Jack wouldn’t let him out of his sight, and neither would the two Trinomians, whom he trusted as far as he could throw the TARDIS. What was troubling, however, was that Jack had never once mentioned the baby. In fact, Jack seemed… affected. He must have eaten or drunk something they’d given him. Best to play along until the dust was thrown, for the sake of the baby.  
_

 _So the Doctor let Jack ease him against the pillows, feeling a bit bruised and pampered as he tried to enjoy the man’s brainless, disturbed fussing._

 _  
_

_What had they done to the Time Agent while he’d been asleep?_

 _And, next in a long line of possible horror scenarios, what might they have done to his child?_


	4. Chapter 4

_The Doctor reached around his lover’s arm for the miniature pot of jam; breakfast in bed had been ever such a nice idea. So glad he’d thought of it.  
_

 _“You feeling okay?” Jack said, rubbing the Time Lord’s ankles, “You had me worried yesterday. Don’t do that again, or I may have to break out the handcuffs just to make sure you get some rest.”_

 _The Time Lord mock scowled._

 _“Oh really? Rest? Is that why you brought them? Funny, I was under the impression they were some kind of bondage toy; a plaything which, I assure you Jack Harkness, will not touch my flesh any time soon. I am a Time Lord, not one of those disturbed backstreet poorbodies who think they like dark rooms and leather whips.”_

 _“I was.”_

 _“Figures. The answer’s still no, especially now.”_

 _With that, the old alien turned a disapproving scowl on his Time Agent, then returned to fixating on the jam, a blend of winter berries and spices._

 _  
_

_“My but this is really good jam… never had jam with spices in it before… hrm.”_

 _  
_

_“Those aren’t, ah, dried Kaiutrope leaves in that, right Doctor?”_

 

 _Jack’s face had suddenly turned white as he looked at the man in his bed._

 _“What is it Jack? Spit it out man! I’m pregnant, not deaf!”_

 _  
_

_Those long clever Time Agency-honed fingers just clenched around his hand, which was clenched around the jam pot, and one by careful one they curled, squeezing in between his flesh and the jar.  
_

 _“You might not be for very much longer, if this is what I think it is.”_

 _  
_

_The Doctor stiffened in his nest of untied blue and gold kimono, his eyes tight as his own long fingers dug into his stomach. Then he sniffed at the jam on his fingers and carefully let out a long, slow breath._

 _  
_

_“Hahahaha! Oh my but that was close. And strangely, rather amusing. I really had you going there.”_

 _Jack stared at him, confused._

 _“What? You knew what was in it and you ate it anyway? Are you insane? What about the baby?”_

 _  
_

_But the Time Lord just waved at him and glared right back, seemingly oblivious to the concern that was threatening to overtake Jack’s face._

 _“Oh lord, Jack! Think think think! Why would I poison myself? In my condition?”_

 _  
_

_Jack narrowed his eyes at him, a thousand anxious, unwholesome thoughts drowning the Time Agent’s previous mood._

 _“To kill the baby, of course.”_

 _  
_

_At that, the Doctor turned grey and swayed as if from shock. Then he shook it off, and that old familiar rage retook its throne._

 _  
_

_“Jack Harkness, if you don’t explain this nonsense, -right now-, I will leave you here to deal with those two idiot Trinomians!”_

 _“Damn you–are- pregnant. You actually used idiot as a noun.”_

 _  
_

_“Don’t forget Mister Smith, my hapless orangutan. And… as a noun? Where oh where did you learn English? From that demonic Lauren Cooper child?”_

 _  
_

_Jack was unphased._

 _  
_

_“From Casanova. And speaking of Mister Smith, are you referring to that stuffy Zylock in Sarah Jane’s attic or that half-green Kid Century you shoved off on me? He’s great with our new systems, by the way.”_

 _  
_

_The Time Lord huffed loudly, reminding Jack of a donkey bored of its labours._

 _  
_

_“Honestly, Jack, what’s gotten into you this morning? Do you want another shag or something? Just let me finish my jam first. I’ve got the oddest craving for this stuff… ”_

 _  
_

_Normally Jack would have laughed; this morning, however, he found himself staring at the Time Lord, who was strangely fixated on the equally strange jar of jam in his pristine fingers._

 _  
_

_Funny how the alien’s long, beautiful Snow Queen hands were normally sticky after he so much as glanced at marmalade…_

 _  
_

_But they weren’t now. Oh no. Today, this morning, they were free of the remotest possibility of sugary preserves._

 _  
_

_“Yeah, pregnancy’ll do that to you,” Jack murmured, fixing blue sparkly eyes on the man in his bed._

 _  
_

_The last thing he wanted to do was give himself away, because, well…_

 _  
_

_Let’s just say the man in his bed was not the man he’d loved and made love with the night before._

 _  
_

_The Time Agent stuck out a thumb, gesturing to the door of their motel room. There was a small heater near the wall, and pale blue and green stripe curtains, same as before. He forced down a shiver._

 _  
_

_“I’m gonna go for a walk, okay? Should be back around, oh, about an hour from now. So, don’t get into any trouble, sweetheart. I’ll have my phone, too, so call me if you feel anything that worries you, like kicking or parasites or bad vibes or something.”_

 _  
_

_Silently Jack watched the form of his lover as he moved toward the door.  
_

 _The Time Lord never stopped to look at him as he messed with his jam, not once. It reminded Jack, rather eerily so, of a scene in LOTR where the Steward of Gondor sat eating grapes and drooling like a raver while the world around him crumbled. Just like that scene… the alien was sitting there propped in their shared bed, eyes staring at the television –which was on-, just… eating that strange dark red jam without a care in the world. It made Jack want to vomit._

 _So he took a slow, direct, easy breath, forcing himself to relax so whoever it was in the bed wouldn’t notice his unease._

 _  
_

_Finally reaching the door after what seemed like a millennia, he touched the handle, and to his relief it turned in his hand. He stepped out into the sunlight, the glare obscuring his vision, and took his first step onto the pavement._

 _  
_

_But his foot scrunched on tiny pebbles, tiny, shaped pebbles of dismal cold white that looked nothing like the outside of the motel._

 _  
_

_Sucking in his breath felt like swallowing a needle, but he forced himself to look up at the true source of the light. And he was right. It wasn’t the sun that was glaring down at him, but a tall white statue of curves and ample flesh, a perfect white humanoid woman carved in some kind of alabaster or something… he wasn’t quite sure what particular type of material, actually; but it obviously bore an unsettling underglow of malice._

 _Blinking fast, he tried to take a step back but found that there was a wall behind him, blocking his way back to wherever he’d thought they both were the night before._

 _Then he turned around, right into the face of the statue._

 _  
_

_When he saw the wings, two horrible bright wings of dead white poking from the statue’s back, he screamed in recognition as the light poured down and interrupted him._


	5. Chapter 5

“Jack! Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!”

 

The Doctor bolted awake, his hand clamping across his stomachs as he struggled to keep breathing.

 

It had been quite a while since he’d truly feared to open his eyes.

 

Wait. What was he saying? Time Lord Victorious! Hawaii! Good er… Angry, Mad and oh so very Cross Queen Bess! Baby!

 

Right then. Time to get off his bum.

 

So he squirmed against his bonds, for bonds they were, all four walls of some kind of box. At least that’s what it felt like. No place for acrobatics, with a baby on the way. So he took a breath, relaxed his muscles, and explored.

 

Then a point of grey pain with an ugly red core burned through some ignored muscle in his lower left thigh. Blinking back tears, he searched the screaming sinew for the source of the injury.

 

“Oh that’s just brilliant,’ he murmured, reaching down between the ceiling of the strange box he was in and his own thin body, feeling with his fingers for the hole in his leg.

 

He crawled his fingers down like a spider, one touch, two touches, three long touches… a fourth… oh it hurt to stretch the skin, but there was no healing it till he got whatever it was out of him. No sirree and Bob’s yer Uncle.

 

A few more squirms and twists against his knee –lord but he needed to learn yoga again in this body!- a bit of twinge along his waist, just a twinge, and finally he found the impinging source of his current angst.

 

His fingers wrapped, smooth and fluid, around the narrow, tapering object. It spiraled at an angle, turning and turning at even sides until it formed… a slinky?

 

No no no. What was a slinky doing in a box? A Doctor and baby-sized box?

 

Bah! Couldn’t be a slinky! Unless… oh dear. Was he being kidnapped and shipped to the North Pole again inside a box of bits and bobs? It wasn’t even Christmas! Speaking of Christmas… why was he stuck upside down in a box? Was the box upside down? Was it on its side? He would much rather be on his side in Jack’s bed, eating breakfast. But no! Jack had to go and get possessed by two annoyingly creepy Geisha Amphibiforms most likely on vacation from Krop Torr!

 

Oh dear. On the other hand, it was probably just a spring, sticking out from their nice warm bed.

 

But then it must be the bed that he was trapped under! Or rather, behind.

 

Well that little insight could have saved several minutes worth of relatively deep thought.

 

In a small, comic fury, the Doctor opened his eyes only long enough to set his good foot on the back of the hide a bed. Then he pushed, kicking fiercely with all the supersolian strength his undamaged leg would allow.

 

The offending spring pulled out, drawing a thick red stringy strip of him across the room when it at last freed itself of his thigh; he gritted his teeth. No sound, no crying, no sobbing, no screaming. No yelp of pain. The Trinomians would hear him. So he used the agony of the wound he’d just suffered to catalog the facts of the situation, ticking off points to the rhythm of the throb in his leg, mouthing his squeals and squeaks of discomfort only when the shadows were again past the door.

 

“Trinomians… known traffickers of tech; collectors of artifacts known to be dangerous. They’re… -oh lord that hurts- obviously using a divide and conquer scheme, else Jack and I would still be enjoying breakfast in bed. Aherm. Ouch. Still hurts. Although, if I was human, I suspect I would be laid out and bleeding by now. Guess I should -ow ow ow ow- count my blessings. Aha ha ha.”

 

At last the shadows stopped crossing over the doorstep, and the Doctor decided to stand up and have a look outside.

 

“No sense in lingering in a trans-dimensional nexus generator when you can go outside looking for your boyfriend and really muck things up!”

 

With a pat on his stomach solely for Junior’s benefit, he hobbled for the door, a grin on his face which had nothing to do with his sex life.

 

After all, he’d never let it be said that he had no spring in his step.


	6. Chapter 6

_Wait. The statue wasn’t moving. It wasn’t alive, after all. Surprise, surprise._

 _Surprise this. Now that the game was afoot, the Harkness was coming._

 _Jack spat white gravel out of his mouth and stared, his mind drifting back to when he had shoved his favorite alien into the hide a bed. God, if that desperate attempt had somehow hurt... no. It was best to think logically. Better at his hands than those of an assailant._

 _Thoughts of their unborn child made Jack turn his head up to the statue’s face. Someone wanted very badly to make it look as though the Pythia had risen from the Abyss; that meant the enemy was someone from the Doctor’s past, because only someone from the Doctor’s past could know about the Pythia. But how badly did they want it? And why had he felt the Doctor’s memories of the Pythia so strongly? Was it the child? Well, questions were only half the condundrum. After that, it was only a matter of who to ask. And Jack could feel a sudden hunger for frog legs coming on as he got to his feet, dusted his tight rump, then patted the statue on the shoulder and headed left, toward the sound of gravel crunching underfoot._


	7. Chapter 7

_Someone… there were strange hands on his back, rubbing circles thick with alien care over his protesting muscles, other hands clutching at his body as though he would fall over if they…_

 _“Breathe, Kusabi, breathe. We have found you. Do not open your eyes just yet…” the voices cooed, stumbling over each other, yet they were stiller, more substantial, more real than the silence he could feel all around him._

 _“Oo, girls girls, is this a massage?  I could get used to this…” he murmured softly, blinking as he leaned sleepily into the waiting fingers of Mayu and Miyu, “... oh, yes, yes a little to the left… oh my. I thank you for retrieving me. My spawn would thank you too, but she’s fast asleep in my tummy. –Sniff- reminds me of that time with the Star Whale… lovely thing… after everything that was done to it… ”_

 

 _Tears leaked from his eyes, and he was happy to let them as the maternal hormones flowed through his system, changing him into something wonderful._

 _Mayu’s voice lingered over his mouth; he could feel her gilly breaths mingling with his own shallow expellations. She smelled, he thought, drifting in a drowse, of seaweed crisps and Butalbian Prongfish… very tart and sour, just the way he liked that particular dish._

 _“Is there any of that left? I could do with a bit of a nibble… ”_

 _Old Mayu’s scorching reproach flared across his face like hot air from a steam vent._

 

 _“You no eat my lunch! Freeloader!”_

 

 _She scowled, her toad face scrunching with great difficulty into something resembling a moldy buttermilk roll; moldy in that the color of her face was anything but healthy for a good, tart sour milk dough._

 _“Oh well fine! Be that way. Pregnant Time Lord doesn’t want your nasty fish and chips, anyway! Ho di ho ho ho!”_

 _Miyu came up beside where he lay on some pillows and ministered, applying a cold lemon compress to his forehead with one froggy hand and pressing the other to his stomach. “You must realize it now, that your baby has grown. It is not the same moment you fell asleep in, Time Lord. Be careful, if you must go back into the Maze. My sister and I recognize the miracle of your condition, and would be distressed should anything befall your child.”_

 _He reached for his belly, touched the three-month bulge through his shirt. Gingerly he examined the deliciously tactile swell that hadn’t been there what he’d thought had been a day ago, and sighed in wonder. “Temporal diffusion bubble, yes? Maintained in this dimension by a…. ah, let me think, let me think… triple induction manifold release adapter? With a... oh you know, one of those little thingies that are all shiny and you put them up the exhaust pipe of a… oooh.” He rubbed at his body as a twinge fluttered through his waist. “Ohh, she kicked me! That is just… well bloody amazing’s what it is. Damn bloody amazing. But, ah, ladies?” He mock swooned like a thirties Earth flapper, going in for a bit of drama as the two Trinomian women stared at him, then turned in unison to shiver and shake in the direction of the door he believed they might well have hauled him in from._

 _“Why are you two so nervous? You saved me and my child, I owe you my thanks, but please. I need you to tell me what’s happening. I can’t save everyone and the time tot too if I don’t have the foggiest notion as to what is taking place! Come on you two! I need numbers, pictures, facts and figures, ideas, actual verbage! Come on!” he yelled excitedly, drumming his hands on his legs as he stood up, careful to keep his green eyes shut against whatever might be streaming in from the door._

 

 _Probably background spatial radiation from the temporal matrix of this big old device, he reasoned as he played pin the tail on the extraspatial portal by wobbling toward the door, barefoot and pregnant with his own strong hand over his eyes._

 _But the two women never answered; they only looked on, their blind white eyes cold on his back like frozen pearls in the dark. Wait… if his eyes were still closed, why could he see them?_

 _He turned, feeling his flesh grow pale as he swore to remove his fingers before the Trinomians could react. And as he moved, ever so slowly, he felt them also move… nimble as feathers toward him…  he peeled his fingers away from his brow one by trembling one, until all that was left was to open his eyes and-_

 _“Don’t go Doctor!”_

 _“You can’t go Doctor!”_

 _“Don’t leave us, Last Son of Gallifrey… ”_

 _“We can take care of you… take care of your child… ”_

 _“Let us keep you sane… ”_

 _“Let us show you… ”_

 _“Let us show you… ”_

 _“How we died… ”_

 _Then the two women ran madly toward him, hands outstretched as they shoved him out the door; all three of them vanished into the light outside that small portal, vanished into the light of an otherworldly day._

 _He fell and fell…_

 _And fell._


	8. Chapter 8

_The last thing Jack Harkness expected was the first thing he found. And the one thing he knew he’d never want to discover, in any of his lifetimes._

 _He realized something was off, in this very off place, long before the naked pink soles of his bare feet crunched in the white bright gravel of the path, one path among many in this strange menagerie… it reminded him of one of those episodes of Star Trek the Doctor had forced him to watch one night on the TARDIS. Thereafter he would have sworn to his corset –yes, he’d owned a corset once, a very handsome Victorian chocolate velvet-ribboned man-corset; he’d seen a replica of it once at Lane’s on Pierre Street, a specialty-vintage boutique of the extreme on a little backwater station called Pelier Et La Marche, one day he’d take the Doctor there- that the Old Girl had shook with a certain tingling laughter whenever the Doctor saw fit to mention the incident again._

 _Thoughts of the Doctor were always filling his mind, especially since they had essentially eloped to this place, but this time… when he saw the man again, it was not in golden triumph, or broken, bleeding departure, or a tired old returning from some inner war, no; it was the soft sound of weeping that carried Jack Harkness -like the guiding song of long demised Star Whales- to the Time Lord, who knelt like a supplicant in the cloudy gravel below a statue with a familiar face._

 _The Lord of Time was on his knees, holding his stomach, which, strangely, seemed to be more full with life than he remembered, with the other hand curled around the foot of the white lady of stone who had given him such nightmares._

 _Was it truly this, the statue from the same dark dream what left him bawling and sick? Was it the same statue at which they’d entered this maze of lights and marble seraphim staring out at nothing in blindness. They rather resembled the too-many queens of a beehive, standing silent vigil over the dreams they imparted, Jack thought, as he took a step toward his lover and said, “Theta? What’s happened? I heard you scuffling and sniffling across two dimensions and this small thing that looked like a temporal micro-pocket…_

 _“Well, that’s… that’s really quite something, you two,” sobbed the Time Lord finally, as two shadows came from behind the statue. Jack turned, startled, but Mayu and Miyu were standing beside the Time Lord, both with koto in their long inhuman hands._

 _They were playing Greensleaves…_

 _“They…” the Doctor started, but it was obvious he would need some help to finish his sentence, so Jack knelt beside him on the gravel and held him, to stop his trembling._

 _“The Other, my memories of being, being… being in pieces in the Looms, it’s all, all true! Listen to Her, Jack…”_

 _Jack held him close; the Doctor’s soft green eyes were staring out of him like green dwarf stars, the rarest jewels in the cosmos, staring as if something in him had broken. As if that something had needed to break long ago the seals that had held it, and been denied release by something beyond himself._

 _“Jack… just listen… she was mad then, but time has been kind to her, as it was never kind to Rassilon; just… hear her out, for me.”_

 _The Doctor twisted weakly in his grasp, and then leaned against him, sagging as if out of breath as he struggled to speak again through the torrent of tears that were shining his cheeks._

 

 _“I came! I promised her I would. She waited so long, for the Other to release her from her prison!” he choked, his deep eyes widening like jewels swaying in place underwater. “I promised her, Jack… I couldn’t save her then, oh no, had to lock her away in the Abyss… but… here…I… am. Oh yes! Our child, Jack! Don’t you see? She’s… given her… blessing… ”_

 

 _He shivered once, looked down, then, curling inward, and was still against Jack’s chest, sliding down. Just sleeping._

 _Jack felt the Doctor slip quietly into emotion-fed sleep at last, and felt his own breast heave a sigh of relief as he looked up to stare at the face of the gigantic winged statue above him._

 _Stone creaked; streaks of color in the cream white marble became nothing less than shiny cracks, wet with anticipation as suddenly the sturdy white mounds of bosom and thigh and splendid waist, bright long hands and seraphic countenance began to gleam beneath the fastly breeching breaks until like mud the pieces showered over them both in a rain of soft dust._

 _Then those giant eyes lay like a blanket upon them, and those womanly lips began to part, to part and sing the words they had so long been denied; their name:_

 _Pythia  Pythia_

 _Pythia  Pythia_

 _Pythia  Pythia_

 _Pythia  Pythia_

 _And each word rang like a hammer blow through the extradimensional grounds of an artificial quantum jewel, the last lock on Her garden prison, until all that remained were the stars one could see through the fractures...  
_


	9. Chapter 9

Hrm… you’d think he would have gotten used to falling by now, with all the plummeting he’d done over various cliffs, catwalks of giant malevolent machinery, giant sentient confections- through the centuries.

 

Odd thing was, he knew he wasn’t conscious. And wasn’t –that- very strange?

 

When he did strike something solid, it was like hitting a pillow, only harder, thicker, pulsing with something, curled like the basin of an antique creamer. But it was soft, with long bits and short bits. Almost like a hand…

 

The moment his naked foot touched within that huge mass of gently curling fingers he knew someone had him. Oh yes, someone had them all. Soon his less addled brain cells began to float upward, to break the surface of sleep. At once he thought of his baby, tried to feel her presence in his mind, the feathers of her as she dwelt at the edges of him.

 

Edges. He’d felt frayed for so long. And then Rose. And Donna. And Martha. And Jack and his little one. All the others, too. They were his beacons, the last little vestiges of the light he was trying to save.

 

How far up was he? Or was it down, considering the feeling of height versus space he was experiencing, he might as well have been in a giant cavern beneath the motel. If the motel had ever really been there. He recalled quite clearly now that he’d made a special point to mention one to Jack. Perhaps it had happened then? And if whatever it was –had- happened then, was the baby he now carried even real? In any case, he could feel the turn of the place’s core, the thermoelectromagnetic pulsation of celestial gravitation, just as he’d described to Rose on –that day- in the Henrick’s lot.

 

“The turn of the Earth,” he said softly, his voice quiet and tired as it hadn’t been since his private little war with Rassilon.

 

“... is there anyone there? I mean, other than you, My Lady Pythia. Or am I just one very lucky boy?”

 

The cavern containing them shivered; a voice boomed through the night-black darkness of the sepulchral, ever-dripping limestone.

 

“Release me! Release me and I will spare your unborn child the fate I have dreamed for you! Release meeeee… ”

 

“Oh please. Why can’t you just give up? It ain’t gonna happen, no if’s ands or well you get the ideas. Stop trying to get me to do what you want. It’s really beginning to irk me. And I’m betting you still remember the last time you irked me, yes?”

 

“I accede. But We will have Our reckoning, son of Gallifrey.”

 

The caverns shook; lights glowed and gleamed and beamed and glistened out from the dank and nether places.

 

It was time to leave. But where was Jack?

 

“Oh, no you don’t. You see, My Lady, I’m not done yet. There are questions I’d like answered, not by you of course, you’d just lie. I mean by myself. But I need you here, and since you’re obviously stupid enough to come into my brain, I can keep you here. Indefinitely. I can do what I like with you.”

 

 He paused, flicked his hand up. A dark red, shiny apple carved with a smiley face appeared, resting on the tips of his Time Lord-y fingers like he was a pedestal in some museum. Then a smile lit his face, showing his chin and filling his small, greenish eyes with a big grinning light. But the Pythia knew that face, whatever flesh it wore. It was the face of moral justice.

 

The apple rose in his hand, multiplying as it moved into one, two, three fruits, each rotating and orbiting and overtaking each other above his vaguely circling wrist, the digits turning in their ball and socket joints as they juggled.

 

“Ball and chain, lock and key, wax and wane upon the tree,” he sing-songed, smiling and not smiling in turns as the apples’ ringed shadows striped his face, utilizing masterfully the look that terrified all who came against him. 

 

“Take them home, chop them up, mix with butters in a cup,”

 

The turn… the mad turn of a dervish… she could not help but watch as the three fruit whirled in his hand, spinning and spinning across the unsettling new features of the man who had bound her to hell.

 

Why wouldn’t he stop? The spinning…

 

“Flour, sugar, baking pan, in the oven for a span,”

 

His fingers were faster now, circling like white seabirds over a steep ocean cliff… was that flesh she felt again, filling out her mind’s bones, filling her…

 

How could one be dizzy in one’s own mind? This was her place, her prison! How dare he do this? How dare he play games in her own…

 

What was he …doing? Why wouldn’t he just… stop…

 

“Make a pie, crows will die, heat it in the oven high,”

 

Much more, and he would have her taking form for his whim. This would never do. But… she couldn’t seem… to stop it…

 

“Piping hot, cream or not, topping in a boiling pot,”

 

And he was watching her, just watching her, standing there in space and not smiling at all… why wouldn’t he smile at her? It seemed as if that’s all she’d ever wanted…

 

She found she had fingers, suddenly. And what was that she was sitting on? A toffet? What was that? It was so nice and soft and firm, like a mushroom. When had she forgotten mushrooms?

 

“Curds and whey, feet of clay, let my boyfriend go and I won’t destroy your mind today.”

 

A blink was all it took, and she was in his hand. Literally. A page out of some Earth story, sitting right there in the Doctor’s colossal hand.

 

“So glad to see you’re back with us again, dear. How was the vacation? This is ironic really. I rather dislike spiders. And don’t think of using that one, it’s already been tried. Soooo! How are we then?”

 

The Doctor smiled down at the little girl in his hand. She was wearing a sweet little dress, white with red ribbons, and the cutest little bonnet!

 

“Feeling better? Or do you still hate my guts, My Lady?”

 

The little girl scowled up at him, tears in her eyes. “I… I concede. Leave, before I change my mind.”

 

She watched his fingers, big blue eyes wide as the two digits came together, thumb and fore, all in slow, exaggerate motion, a colossal hand dance of towering statues.

 

Then there was a quiet laugh, and He was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

The rich heavy smell of cinnamon filled Jack’s lungs almost abruptly, waking him with thoughts of baked apples and the hope of pie crust. Sunlight filtered over everything like gold dust from chicken curtains hanging above an oversized ceramic sink. And over all of this, a sweet summer heat crept through him, sent by the graces of that big blue darling of a ship. He could kiss the captain, well… had done, but nevermind. Kissing always led to distractions, and he wanted to savour this moment.

 

Well floured and stuffed with eleven months of baby, Doctor was standing over him with a spoon in his hand, eyeing Jack as though he were something delectable.

 

“Forever and always, my love,” Jack said, cottoning early to the hungry look in the Time Lord’s eyes, “I take it the pie’s in the oven?”

 

 The eleventh Doctor grinned that lovely thievish grin, one nostril flaring for effect as tossed his floppy hair out of his face, sprinkling the world in un-sifted flour. Then, he reached down to take Jack’s quite kissable chin in one hand, hooking his other thumb in his apron band so he could grab his massive stomach. “Well, that’s… one way of putting it,” he said brightly, patting the two exquisite frog statues in his pocket.”…anyway, there’s something I’ve been wanting to make you say…”

 

Then he slowly undid the tie of his apron, letting the stiff fabric creep down over his exquisite bulging belly until it caught on the crown of him and hung there like a discarded coat.

 

Jack bit his lip as the strip tease continued with the abandonment of a soft cotton shirt. Then, thin grey yoga pants slid like clay-slip down beneath that lovely bump, coasting beneath wide, bony hips, and already he was reveling in the delicious cool sex-heat exuded by his tasty, teeming Time Lord.

 

The Time Agent leaned forward, carefully nuzzling the runner-up prize, that gorgeous pearly mound of baby belly. He cupped it in his hands as the Doctor stared down at him, a small smirk gathering at the corners of the ancient alien’s mouth. Jack pulled the Doctor down into a semi-sitting position, gentling stone nipples as they moved together, jerking and squirming and thrusting in time to their hearts, all with the thickness of the baby between them.

 

Eyes locked; the Old Man’s gaze turned expectant, playful even, as Jack filled him again for the last time then threw himself up just enough, to stare into those lovely green lenses.

 

“Hello, Casanova,” he said quietly, and promptly drowned in a deluge of swollen, wet kisses.

 

\---

 

FIN


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